Reincarnation
by Akatsuki Feathers
Summary: Do you believe in reincarnation, Spicer? /Some Chack, set within the future.\
1. The Interaction

Author's Note: This was originally typed to help me get out of my writer's block (which has been plaguing me since the beginning of Summer Break!) and wasn't going to be more than a one-shot. How mistaken I was. Suddenly, I'm writing over twenty pages, much too long for a one-shot really. So, after working for months, I've written this. Good gosh! -swipes forehead- I will be updating every Sunday, by the way!

**Be warned, there will be strong themes within the story! So please do not complain when things get violent! Rated M for a reason! Also, there will be hinting of homosexuality (just hinting because I totally failed in writing Chack!)**

Please enjoy: (:

* * *

**The Interaction:**

The soft click and clatter of keys resounded through the dark room. A dim, white light kept the room at a slight glow; a silhouette of a small person with spiked hair was cast on the far wall. The clattering stopped, and the dark room was silent for a moment. A soft click sounded and then more silence. Another series of clicking and clattering started.

The boy leaned closer to the screen; a large grin plastered on his ghostly pale face. A soft hum of music blasted through the large headphones the boy wore; the rhythm of it sounded rushed and loud. The boy didn't nod his head to the beat; he just sat still, his willowy fingers pressing down on the lettered keys on the keyboard with expertise speed. He stopped suddenly, his ruby red eyes scanning across the lines of words he had typed out. The small pointer of the mouse moved across the bright screen and landed on a certain misspelled word. He pressed down on the clicker and moved his hands back to the keyboard. He pressed the backspace several times and rewrote the misspelled word. He nodded lightly and reread the sentence. He continued down the lines and once he was done proofreading, he maneuvered the mouse over towards the 'send' button and clicked it.

In an instant, the message was sent.

The boy licked his chapped lips and turned his attention to his music player. He gripped around the sleek music player and scrolled through the lists of songs with ease. He clicked on a certain song and sighed with tranquility.

Listening to one song over and over again became very old; especially after listening to it for over three hours.

The song was one of his favorites, and no matter how long he listened to it, he still couldn't become bored of it. That was why the band was his favorite; their music was just so perfect for his music tastes. And even though the lyrics were in a language he had yet to master; he still hung to each word.

His already large eyes gleamed with delight as he noticed the reply message on his computer monitor.

_That is very interesting, Spicer… You should show me one of your inventions some day._ That was his e-pal's reply.

He grinned, a sudden pride filling his heart. His thin fingers went back to typing the reply, his tongue licking his lips.

_Anytime! _He started, one black brow rising up and resting against his red-dyed hair. _It would be an honor to show someone other than my dog one of my inventions!_ He placed several letter faces after his comment to show his laughing afterwards, which, he really was.

The boy's lighthearted laughter settled down and he turned back to the screen and keyboard. He bit on his lower lip. His fingers started to move again, slowly this time, as if he were uncertain.

_I really don't know how to explain this, but I feel like I know you. Pretty strange, huh?_

He proofread again and sent it back to his e-pal. He lightly bopped his head to the music he was listening to and watched the screen with excitement. He made a squeal of glee as he saw the reply box pop up.

_It may be possible, Jack Spicer._ His pen pal replied.

He grinned. _You think so, Chase?_ He typed out, one of his hands straying off to grab the large plastic take-out cup filled with a highly caffeinated soda pop. He took a sip of the sugary drink through the wild neon green bendy straw and placed it back down on the coaster next to his favorite novels. He sent the message instantly.

The reply was fast. Faster than the Internet centered boy was expecting.

… _As I stated __**before**__: yes, I do…_

The male's smile faltered, his eyes looking down slightly. _I'm sorry I annoyed you._ He typed out, sending it quickly in hopes to repair the damage he had done.

He yawned again and looked down at the blank screen.

The box popped up instantly, surprising the boy. He nearly fell out of his chair.

_It is fine, Spicer. I understand. You are still sixteen of age; excitement is understandable._

He clicked his music player off repeat and stared down at the keyboard. He didn't know how to reply.

_Thanks for being so understanding._ He clicked send without even a second glance.

The response took a few minutes, but it did arrive.

_You should get some sleep; it's late where you live. Young men should get sleep, and you have not._

The boy rolled his eyes. _But I just took some Trucker pills! I'm wide-awake!_ He sent it and took a slow drag from his drink.

_You really shouldn't do that, Spicer. At your age, you are susceptible to becoming addicted to them._ His e-pal replied.

He cracked a smile and stared down at his keyboard with slight fondness. _Whatever._

The two had continued to chat for over three hours before his e-pal, going by the cover name of Chase Young, had told him that he had to do something important and had to sign off.

The boy was reluctant to say good-bye but he did. Now the boy with badly dyed red hair and red colored contacts had nothing else to do while he was still on his alert high.

The boy frowned and spun his computer chair around several times before he forced his sock covered feet to the floor to stop the spinning.

His pen pal had known him by the name of Jack Spicer. It was not his real name, but when he first started Internet conversations when he was ten the name was simply too good to resist. He had been using it ever since. And anyway, Gary Hult was such an ugly name. Once he was old enough, he was going to change his name.

The boy stood up and walked out of the darkened room and down the empty hall. He maneuvered through the dark halls with skill, his eyes used to the dark even though he was sitting in front of the computer for such a long time. He ran his willowy fingers through his hair and padded through his cold kitchen. He stepped into the living room and down the hall once again. He took a turn and stopped in front of a regular wooden door. He opened it and stepped within the small room, his fingers wrapping around the small metal string and turning on the lights as he went by. He sighed in relief and walked down the steps and into his garage. His body shivered as a chill ran up from his bare feet to his warm back, chilling him slightly before his body heated up instantly. He sat down in front of a large metal desk and stared down at the small robotic creature on the counter top. He picked it up and smiled at its small face.

He always did seem to be good at creating things. Sculpting metal was not his specialty yet, but he understood, with great detail, the complexities of wiring and programming and even hacking. Anything of an electrical sort was his skill. He was decent at carving wood (much more skill towards wood than towards metal) but only used his wood carving skills to make artwork: very bad artwork, in his opinion.

Jack scratched his head and set the small robot down and pulled a screwdriver over to him. He lifted it, angling it towards the small humanoid and plunging in down and started to work. After he finished retightening the screws, he pushed the small driver to the side and pulled his favorite goggles out of his pocket and slipped them over his eyes.

He had bought them on an auction site. The lenses were yellow in color, but he could see through them perfectly while light didn't reflect through them at all. And even with the dark swirls designed on the surface of the lens, he could still see through them perfectly without the annoying swirl getting in the way of his vision. Whoever had made them was a genius in design.

He slipped several bits of metal over towards his body and grabbed his portable blowtorch over to him too. He smiled and turned the torch on; the bright blue flame it created made him excited. He pulled the small piece of metal on the backside of the robots exposed insides and placed it ever so gently so it covered part of the gapping hole. He lowered the torch, his exposed fingertips just the right length away so that he wouldn't be burned, and started to melt the two slabs of metal together so that they stuck on pretty much permanently.

The boy worked the rest of his hours of forced wake finishing his small robot. Welding, smoothing, polishing, and testing: everything. He finally turned off his blowtorch and set it aside. He stared down at his neatly polished and fully functional tiny robot with a proud smile. Once he built up the courage to ask Chase Young if it were okay to meet with him; he'd have to show his friend his invention. Along with the many other ones he had stashed away.

He fell asleep at his work desk that night, the lights still on.

---

His dreams were always filled with blurs of gold, black, and reds; and vague words spat towards him. There were hazy faces, ones with outlines but no detail. He was almost positive that one of the outlines was female, considering its long hair. But he couldn't be sure, because another one, whose profile was obviously male's, had long hair too.

---

He woke up during midday and mock yawned. He grinned and slid away from his workspace. He merrily walked out of his lab, the lights clicking off with one graceful pull of the metal string, and into his kitchen. He pulled out a package of saltine crackers and cheese sticks and hurried to his bedroom. He slid into his chair and looked at the blank screen.

His eyes bugged as he watched the response box pop up on the screen. He winced, his eyes watering. He forced his eyes open wide and gently pinched the colored lens. He pulled the colored contact out of his eye and pulled the small case over towards him and placed the contact inside gently. He did the same with his other contact lens. He blinked his gray-green eyes several times and turned his attention back to the computer monitor.

_Good afternoon, Spicer._ Chase wrote, _I hope you received seven hours of sleep last night._

He shrugged to himself and started typing. _More or less, yeah... What were you doing last night?_ He sent.

_Tending to my jungle cats._

The boy laughed at this. That's what he liked about Chase; he had a sense of humor.

_Yeah, and I was ruling the world!_ He added several 'laugh faces' to show he was joking.

_Hn…_

Jack smiled. _You really do seem familiar! It's crazy!_

He munched on crackers and cheese for a good fifteen minutes before he was given a reply.

_Do you believe in reincarnation, Spicer?_

This took him aback. _I never really thought about it, but yeah, I guess so._

There was another pause.

_Would you like to meet?_

His body quivered. His eyes were wide. _YES!_ He sent it as fast as he could.

_Good. Shall we meet, per say, at four today at that small café at the corner of Elm and Bay Street?_

_Of course!_

---

Jack had spent the three hours he had to get ready. He cleaned his contacts and placed them back in, making his eyes flash red (his personal favorite color.) He spent a good half hour trying to figure out what to wear, and ended up wearing all black. After all, he wanted to stay pale and pasty like he originally was. A long sleeve black shirt, long black pants, heavy boots, fingerless leather gloves, and his favorite goggles (which he had forgotten to take off.) He left his music player on his desk, just so he wouldn't be rude. He gathered up several of his smaller inventions and placed them neatly in his backpack (normal polyfiber and golden in color.) The buckles on his boots and belt were also golden in color.

Gold, black, and red: his three favorite colors. And also the main theme colors in his reoccurring dreams.

By the time Jack was finished, his dark liquid eyeliner on the tips of his lids, he was about ten minutes late. By the time he was out the door, he was fifteen minutes late. And by the time he made it to the quaint little café, named Le Mime (which made him lift a brow at how creepy yet familiar it was,) he was a good thirty minutes late.

He hoped Chase wouldn't be too angry with him.

The café was actually very busy, to his great surprise. But busy with dark figures, people with menacing eyes and sharp smiles. All of the eyes pointed to him, making him fell a rush of fear and anxiety, but for only a few seconds.

Jack gulped harshly and looked around the café, searching for 'Chase Young'. His dark red eyes landed on a figure sitting calmly in the far corner, his hand held up and gracefully motioning towards him to come over. His lips burst in a large, white smile and he rushed over towards the small table for two. He took a seat quickly.

"Hi Chase!" He said in a skirl.

"Hello, Spicer." The young man greeted back in a calm and cold tone.

He felt a spiral of excitement at the man's demeanor. The man was just so awesome! His imitation red eyes sparkled with hero worship as he continued to look at the man. His young but prominent features, his long dark hair that fit him perfectly, and his sharp golden eyes that seemed almost reptilian. He fit the form of Chase Young well.

"I've read about Chase Young in textbooks. You fit him well!" Jack piped, "Even though I've never seen a picture of him (not even an illustration), I'm pretty sure he'd look a lot like you! Wow, Chase, you chose the best name to go by!" His eyes continued to sparkle with thrill.

"Indeed," The man muttered, his eyes looking Jack up and down, his mind seeming to be elsewhere.

"Hay, Chase, ya wanna see some of my inventions?" Jack asked, his voice high in minority and loud.

The man sitting across from him seemed to snap out of his thoughts and shot a hand over the boy's mouth, startling him. "Quiet!" He ordered.

Jack shrank back, nodded franticly, and let out a sigh of relief once Chase's hand was pulled away.

"You must keep your voice down, Spicer." Chase warned in a low voice, "You shouldn't attract unwanted attention." With that, he motioned to the number of people within the café that were watching him.

He nodded again quickly, "Okay, okay," He said in a whisper.

"Good, Spicer. Now, what about inventions?" He inquired.

Jack instantly perked at this. He pulled his backpack off of his shoulders and opened the main pouch. He pulled out his favorite little robot and set it on the table. He pulled out several guns and other contraptions as well. His smile was smug as he looked at Chase.

The man picked up the small robot and observed it, his olive colored fingers feeling the polished metal gently. "Is this all?" He asked.

Jack shook no, "No way! I have much bigger stuff at home!" He gloated.

"Hmm, alright." He placed the small humanoid down and picked up one of the guns, "What, may I ask, does this do?"

He grinned a wide grin again, "That's a particle gun! It collects the stray particles in the air and forces them into pure energy again. Afterwards, it releases that burst of pure energy in ray form! It can melt pretty much anything!"

Chase placed the gun down gently, a small spark shown in his eyes.

If Jack didn't know better, he could have sworn Chase was proud of him.

"These are weapons, Spicer. What are your goals for the future?" Chase Young asked him, his left eyebrow raised.

His pale cheeks flushed a light pink as he averted his gaze. "You're going to make fun of me… But, I want to take over the world."

The space between the two stayed silent. And then, there was laughter. It was more of a chuckle rather than a full-blown laugh, but it still made Jack cringe.

"I knew you'd make fun of me." He muttered in melancholy.

Chase stopped and sneered at him, "I was not laughing at you, Spicer. I was just thinking about a deceased friend. You remind me of him, very much so." He mused.

"Oh, I see." He lifted his eyes up again and smiled once more.

Chase stood up and straightened his shirt, "Well, it seems to be time for me to go. I will not be on later, Spicer, so try to get something decent to eat. You look like a hungry dog." He advised. He straightened out his shirt once more and looked down at the albino looking boy. "Good-bye."

Jack shot out of his chair quickly, "B-Bye Chase!" He said in a high voice, waving his thin hand at him quickly.

"Hn," He stepped out of the café and turned towards the right and out of view.

Jack frowned and looked around the darkened café. He spotted the mime working the register and shivered. He quickly packed his things and made his escape from the café.


	2. The Idea

**The Idea:**

Chase Young was meditating near one of his many fountains when a disturbance showed itself in his palace home. He peered down at one of his jungle cats and turned his attention back to the front door. He allowed the slab of rock to open and allowed his visitors in.

"Hello, young monk." He greeted, golden eyes pinpointed on the small yellow dot at the end of the tunnel into his home. He sneered once the Xiaolin monk walked into his palace home.

"Greetings, Chase Young." Omi said, his dark eyes pointed to the tai-chi sorcerer.

He was still the short: but not too short. He was still shorter than Chase, though. He had grown over the years into a lean man with a slightly less round head. He still had no hair, and he still had his forehead dots, and he still held as much humility as a tree.

Omi pointed a finger at him, "What are you planning, Chase Young!" He exclaimed with a little too much drama.

Chase slowly walked up the winding stairs and took a seat at his throne. "I'm not planning anything, just visiting an old friend." He continued to smile calmly.

Grand Master Omi didn't seem convinced. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked up at the never aging man.

"Believe me or not, that is simply all I was doing." Young said, voice chillingly cold.

"What friend?" Omi shot, still not believing.

A soft unheard chuckle came from the overlord. His eyes centered on Omi once again, his pupils in slits, "Jack Spicer."

The yellow monk seemed hurt, "Do not tamper with my heart cords, Chase Young. Jack Spicer died many years ago." His voice was low and sad.

"Would you believe me, young monk, if I told you that Jack Spicer was alive?" He questioned, smiling sharply.

Omi blinked, his mouth open very slightly, "This is no lie, is it?"

"Not a word, Omi. I have found the incarnation of Jack Spicer." He stated, "Now leave my home. I must tend to my jungle cats."

---

He was watching the walls spin from the confines of his bed when there was a knock on the door. His fake red eyes were still uncentered as the room continued to spin, but he willed himself to sit up and squeezed his eyes shut when he felt the bout of dizziness overcome him. He got off his messy bed and stepped over to his bedroom door. It was probably his 'mom' checking up on him, or maybe one of those maids he almost never saw.

He wasn't expecting to see a tall Brazilian man wearing robes to be at his door. He perked an eyebrow at him, "Eh," He muttered with apprehension.

The man's green eyes widened as he stared down at Jack, his mouth going somewhat slack.

Jack slowly started to close the door, disturbed by the stranger. He pressed his back against the door and pulled out his sleek cell phone. "Y-You better leave! O-O-Or I'll call the cops!" He warned, his voice failing him horribly. Of course, just like him to start stuttering for the first time in years when a messed up stranger is standing outside his bedroom!

"No, no, don't call the cops!" He heard the man call.

"W-Who are you?" He stuttered; his shoulders hunched.

"Raimundo Pedrosa,"

Jack felt his body tense. Raimundo Pedrosa… Raimundo… Rai… It was so familiar! He shifted away from the door and opened it slightly, his red eyes looking at him.

The Brazilian man smiled, "Hay Jack."

He stared. That was all he could do: just stand, half hidden by the door, and stare. He licked his dry lips, "Do I know you?"

Raimundo blinked, "Omi was telling the truth…" He muttered to himself, almost too quiet to hear.

"L-Leave, before I call the cops!" He warned, his voice in a high skirl. He held up his cell phone, ready to dial.

Raimundo held up his hands in defeat. "Okay, okay, dude, cool down. I'm leavin', I'm leavin'."

And he did. Before Jack knew it, the man was turned away from the door and walking down the hall towards the exit. Once he heard the front door slam closed, he finally let out a breath of relief. He shakily pushed the door closed and locked it, doing the same to his window. He wasn't worried about the strange man going into his lab or any other room. His lab was protected by several hidden traps: the cement floor was covered in weight sensitive sensors that were tuned to his weight (he had to constantly watch his weight so it wouldn't plummet under or skyrocket over the weight range) and there were cameras hidden in the walls and ceiling that checked his current features that were in the data banks. While the other rooms were empty of life (with an exception for the many potted plants that he disliked very much so) Jack could have cared less about the objects in them. He sat down in his chair and moved the mouse absently across the screen. He leaned his cheek against his hand and slumped in boredom within his chair and slept…

---

The place where he stood was bright and colorless. Whiter than white that made his eyes water from the endless bright that reflected off of nothing. The light source was unknown, but the light didn't dim or brighten, it stayed at the constant bright that it was at the moment. He squinted, bright dots filling his vision.

There was a smear of darkness far in the distance. It was small and too distorted for Jack to see what it was, but in time, the smear grew larger and more details showed themselves.

Chase Young, his figure deeply shadowed from the light reflecting against his armor clad body and his long black hair framing his face, stepped closer to him. He seemed very regal and proud as he walked closer and closer to him, his face calm but not emotionless. No, no, just neutral.

Even though Chase was not threatening in his physic or facial features, Jack still felt the urge to step back and away from the young man. Some small internal instinct inside him told him not to get too close, to be careful around this creature.

There was a thunderous crack and suddenly he felt like he was surrounded by static. Another crack resounded through the thick air, and a large bolt of blue lightning streaked through his dreamland sky. More and more booms and streaks of lightning preceded, each bolt of electricity absorbing a little bit of the blinding light that filled his dreamland. The light slowly faded away, slowly turning into a colorless dark.

Chase didn't stop moving, and he would be standing right in front of him in a matter of minutes.

And suddenly, it seemed like someone turned off the lights. Darkness overlapped everything, blinding him. Two large hands rested on his shoulders, making him tense out of habit.

His dreamland was deathly quiet; he wasn't even able to hear his heartbeat or his breathing. It was chilling.

Another clap of thunder rang through his ears, making him wince. The lightning struck through the sky, momentarily lighting things. He focused his eyes quickly to the person in front of him, his large red eyes going doe when he saw not a man, but a large reptilian monster. He attempted several times to scream and on the third time, a girlish scream ripped from his throat.

His world spun, his eyes unfocused, and he finally awoke…

---

He pulled the hood of his large jacket over his head and sniffled lightly. The rain poured down relentlessly on the small city, bouncing off his hood slightly, and soaked the bottoms of his pants.

He turned the corner and onto another street. Jack shoved his freezing hands into his warm pockets and continued down the street and towards the convenient store. He entered the small shop, the bells on the door jingling weakly against the sound of the rain, and wiped his wet boots against the plastic mat at the door.

Jack walked towards the back of the store (not before nodding a greeting to the cashier) and down the drink aisle. He hefted the glass door open and pulled out a gallon of milk. He lifted the jug up with both hands, the soft hiss of the door closing automatically echoing through the convenient store, and walked towards the cashier. He placed the milk on the counter and pulled out the correct amount of cash out of his pants pocket.

The cashier bayed him a 'thank you' and a 'have a nice day'. Jack nodded to him and exited the convenient store and headed back home. He peered at the large bank that was positioned regally up the street, right at the street corner. He smiled weakly, only to wiggle suddenly when a great chill ran up his spine. A large gust of wind had whipped itself into his jacket by his loose collar and chilled him effectively. He shivered from the cold, his teeth chattering together loudly.

If only his car wasn't in the testing stages… Then he wouldn't have to walk in the pouring rain with a heavy, slightly ripping, plastic bag.

Stupid car and its tendency to blow up…

---

He groaned, rolling around in his bed restlessly. His gray-green eyes were glued on his computer screen, anxiously waiting for the reply box to pop up. He groaned as he noticed the numbers on his digital clock change to three. Three in the morning… He was tired, oh so tired. But he wanted to talk to Chase again. After the chat with that Raimundo Pedrosa fellow and that dream he had, he had the strange urge to ask Chase more questions about him. Yeah, it was horribly nosy, but he was truly intrigued by the young man. He had an air of wisdom but also of danger… Jack laughed. That was really clichéd… But, this mysterious dangerous side of Chase Young could be useful, especially if he could convince him to work for him… He had plans to kick off his start for world domination—

What? Sixteen wasn't too young to be a dictator!

---

By the time of five in the morning (he had only dozed off lightly for about an hour or so,) Jack had had enough. He sat down in his cushiony, twirl-capable, chair and sent a message to him:

_Hay, Chase, I need to talk to you…_ _Please reply as soon as possible._

Jack was startled (and slightly spooked) when Chase had replied around three minutes later.

_What is it, Spicer?_

Jack bit his lower lip and contemplated. What did he want? Well, it was obvious really; he wanted Chase to help him do something criminal.

_I want to meet you again. At that café_, _is that okay?_

_May I ask why?_

Jack huffed: because he didn't want to ask Chase if he wanted to do something against the law with him over the Internet. For all he knew, there could be filters going through these chats, trying to spot out crimes and such. And, for all he knew, Chase could possibly be a cop as well…

Jack shook his head; no, no, Chase couldn't possibly be a police officer… He would have had Jack taken away for owning that particle gun he made…

_I have to ask you something very important. And something very personal…_

Chase sent a confirming message several minutes later.

---

For some reason, the second time he entered the little café named Le Mime wasn't as scary as the first time. Sure, the malicious looking people in the café still spooked him, but he could deal with it. His faux-red eyes spotted Chase sitting at the same table that they were at the last time they meet, looking completely indifferent from the last time he saw him.

Jack stepped over to him quietly and took a seat at the small circular table. He pointed his eyes earthwards, towards the table, wondering how to start off.

"What is it that you wanted to talk about, Jack Spicer?" Chase asked, looking down upon him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice was trapped in his throat for a moment. His heart was pounding and his stomach fluttered slightly. He leaned forward, still trying to get his voice, and looked around quickly, trying to spot if someone was watching them. He swallowed roughly and looked back at Chase. "I want your help…" He muttered weakly, his confidence faltering.

Young motioned for Jack to continue with a movement of his hand.

"Oh, right…" He muttered, "Um, could you, I dunno', help me rob a bank?" He asked, greatly uncertain.

Chase raised an elegant brow and stared down at the Goth teen a little more strongly. "Rob a bank?"

Jack nodded weakly.

A strong hand clapped him on the shoulder, making Jack tense. He stared at the man with large faux-red eyes, looking deeply confused. What was he doing?

"What do you need my assistance in?"

Jack gnawed the inside of his cheek, trying to figure out what he needed Chase to do again. The only thing that he could think of was to help him bail from jail. If that were even possible… Wait, did teens go to jail? He could have sworn they went to juvie or something…

He'd have to research that before doing anything drastic.

He swallowed down that stubborn lump in his throat and looked Chase straight in the eye, trying his very best not to burst in hysterics. (He didn't even want to think about what he'd do when he'd be standing at the bank entrance with a gun at hand…) "If the police nab me, I would like your help getting me out of jail… Or juvie, whichever they use for sixteen-year-olds." He muttered several syllables of nonsense to himself afterwards, eyes pointed towards the small display of coffee container sizes.

Chase looked at him with interest, "Would it not be easier on yourself if I went with you? I do know some very useful techniques that would be very helpful in thievery."

He grinned brightly. There was one more reason why Jack Spicer liked Chase Young.

"Really?" He asked in a skirl. Even though his pitch was high, the volume was still controlled.

"Correct," He confirmed in a drawl.

---

If only his car's engine wouldn't keep on overheating! He was so damn frustrated with that— very handsome, very sleek, very cool and technically advanced— piece of junk. Man-oh-man; if he could get his futuristic car to work, he would look _so_ cool in it. But the piece of crap always blew _something_ not long after he started its lovely engine.

He patted its black exterior lovingly, pouting slightly as his fake red eyes scanned over the car's overall body build. All was black, making it very sharp looking, and the overall shape was aerodynamic. The whole body of his biggest (and most challenging) project was coated many, many times in a special wax coating that prevented dirt sticking onto it. (This wax was not created by his genius, but he used it anyway.) Dirt and grime on black cars were never incognito. Ever. The seating inside was made of tan faux-leather that he took from the couch in his living room (his father was greatly unamused. His father never did learn where he put the leather from the couch.) And, of course, there were many, many little accessories he just _had_ to add. (Such as his car shooting out oil slick or metal thorns from the small ejectors that were placed where the exhaust pipe would be. Or music player accessible ports in the dashboard, or even a mini-refrigerator which held his pudding cups; banana flavored, of course.) He loved his car; it was so cool.

Jack scratched his chin, sitting down backwards in his chair and stared at his gorgeous car. The only way to get his car to stop overheating was to put exhaust pipes in near the engine to help filter out all of the hot air and to allow colder air in. But, he didn't want to put grates at the front of his car (they caught way too many bugs) but he didn't want to have a bunch of pipes and/or holes sticking out of his car's hood.

Jack sighed and stepped out of his lab and towards his bedroom. There were still things that he and Chase had to talk about.

---

He was going to rob the local bank on a Friday: a day right after payday, and just before the weekend. There would be new money within it, and many people there to be witnesses. It would kick start his career as a criminal/bad guy, while earning him some extra cash.

Yeah, his family already had large sums of money. And sure, he was able to take out as much as he wanted. But he needed to do something that would make his name famous and fast. What could be more newspaper worthy than a sixteen-year-old robbing a bank all by himself and succeeding? (Well, that depended on whether he decided to have Chase's help or not, and he was greatly considering Chase's assistance…)

It had taken him a total of two weeks to figure out a better way to keep his car's engine cool, but he had gotten it. Sleek gill like slots! It gave his car that extra 'cool' look while it still served a purpose! He was _so _happy.

The plan for his robbery attempt was clearly documented in his mind. Every detail of his plan memorized. No paper or digital evidence at all.

Everything was ready…

He could feel his stomach squirm already, and it was only Tuesday. This was bad.

Jack clumsily stepped through his dirty bedroom, almost tripping on a pair of knotted socks, and plopped down on his swivel chair roughly. His willowy fingers ran across the keys, the small dips in his keyboard made the calloused skin on his fingertips tingle.

_I want your help. Friday, the same café, is that okay?_

Chase's responses were always fast; they didn't startle him any more. Okay, that was a lie. They only startled him _slightly._ Just slightly!

_That's perfect._

Jack blinked as he stared at the screen.

---

Thursday night was one of the hardest nights Jack had ever experienced in his whole life. His mind was plagued with thoughts of dread, uncertainty, and paranoia… What a great bad guy he was.

All the real bad guys (Like the real Chase Young, Black-beard, his eighth grade English teacher; Mr. Roth, and all the others) would call him soft; he could literally see it happening in his mind's eye. The real sad part was that he himself knew that it was true. His heart was soft and squishy (like normal hearts were supposed to be like!) while hearts owned by Chase Young and Mr. Roth were hard and steely (like how _villain_ hearts were supposed to be like!)

Maybe this whole bank-robbing thing was a bad idea— No! It was a brilliant idea, one that would be recorded in history books as the first villainous act of Jack Spicer the genius…

'Jack Spicer the Genius' wasn't very catchy. He'd have to have a really good name, one that would catch people's attention.

Jack Spicer, evil genius— Overused…

What then?

Jack Spicer, evil _boy_ genius! Yeah! It was the perfect title; it said his name, his evilness, and the fact that he was a genius and still in only within the early stages of puberty!

He grinned from ear-to-ear and curled up under the covers of his bed contently. Tomorrow, Jack Spicer, evil boy genius would kick start his career as an evil-doer by robbing a bank…


	3. The Robbery

**The Robbery:**

He packed several guns under his black coat, the particle gun strapped right near his heart. It felt kind of symbolic to him, in a tacky sort of way. He slipped his goggles onto his forehead, pushing back the small wisps of hair that usually hung over his forehead. Underneath, he wore a bulletproof jacket. You could never be too careful. Generally when the police intercepted, it didn't take too much to make them shoot. He, of course, wore his dark attire (mostly just for appearance rather than for utility) and his large clunky boots. Oh, how he loved those boots! They were so special, and he had even modified them to make them better!

Jack stepped into his lab, careful not to mess with the sensors too much (he generally didn't wear his boots into the lab, he was usually barefoot) and walked over to the sleek black car that was parked in the very middle of his work area. He entered the vehicle and grinned from ear-to-ear as he gripped the steering wheel.

"At two and ten…" He mumbled, reminded himself absentmindedly. He took several exercise breaths, trying desperately to settle his wired up nerves, and turned the engine on. His breath hitched as the engine roared to life and quieted down quickly and significantly afterwards. He thrust his arms into the air (his knuckles hitting the ceiling roughly, much to his displeasure) and whooped to himself happily.

He opened the garage door and backed out, his heart beating a mile a minute. Now all he had to do was pick up Chase…

---

He parked his car on the side of the road, right in front of the café. He smiled to himself as he noticed a stranger walking by double take at his car. (He was so damn proud about that thing!) He pulled himself out of his car and shoved the elaborate key into his pants pocket. His nerves still hadn't settled down, and there was a large knot of anxiousness forming in his stomach. He sniffled and stepped into the café, the dark figures inside not seeming to be so spooky anymore, and carefully stepped over towards their table. He sat down, mouth suddenly dry, and shyly looked at the completely calm form of Chase Young.

His breath shuddered and he stared at Chase nervously, "Chase," He said nervously, "How can you be so calm?"

He looked upon him emotionlessly and replied simply: "I'm not nervous about such simple things as robbery."

Jack stared at him worriedly, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I've been around for a long while; I'm quite used to evil-doing." Chase said, seeming slightly bored for a matter of fact.

Jack chewed on his bottom lip and looked at him with large faux-red eyes. "W-W-What's that supposed to mean?"

Chase's eyes narrowed and they seemed to shine slightly with something Jack couldn't identify. "You're still as weak as ever Spicer… It's truly a pity."

He quivered slightly, staring at him with fright, "What are you talking about? Who _are_ you?"

"You know who I am, Spicer." He said roughly— darkly, "But, the question is; do _you _know who _you_ are?"

He stood up quickly (the chair falling over with a clatter) and jumped away from him, "I'm Jack Spicer: Evil Boy Genius, also known as Gary Hult!" He yelled in a very feminine skirl. He thrust a willowy finger at him, "And you call yourself Chase Young! Who are you really? Tell me!" He, by this point, was screaming at Chase (catching everyone's attention.)

Chase chuckled to himself and stood up, golden eyes looking down upon Jack in amusement. "You really don't understand, do you, Spicer?"

He quivered a little more, his arms held close to his sides, "W-What are you t-talking about?" He stuttered.

A dark grin spread across Chase's lips, his teeth pointed and dangerous. "You always were a bit stupid when it came to figuring out humanity problems." He mused.

He still didn't understand.

Chase once again frowned (more of a scowl now) at him and rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers. "And as aggravating as ever as well, I see." He muttered bitterly, "Don't you understand, Spicer? I _am_ Chase Young."

Jack shook for a minute, standing completely still and looking amazingly pitiful. The sudden news slowly filtered through his mind and finally translated to him. His mouth gapped, and his eyes grew large, "_Ch-Chase Young?_" He screamed. His eyes were so large, he was pretty sure his colored contacts were going to fall out.

His hand shot out and clapped around Jack's mouth, "Quiet, vermin!" Chase growled.

Jack folded in on himself slightly and nodded quickly to him.

"Good, now come." Chase removed his hand and exited the café, not even bothering to wait for Jack.

He quickly scuttled out of the building and almost bumped into the warlord.

Young peered down at him, an angled brow arched high on his forehead. "Did you create this?" He asked, pointing to Jack's car.

He smiled brightly, previous fear draining away and was quickly replaced with pride. "Sure did! From scratch, too!" He piped.

Chase opened the passenger side door and entered the car. He motioned for Jack to follow his lead.

The redheaded teen slid onto the seat on the passenger's side and placed his hands on the steering wheel. He looked Chase nervously. "Wh-where would you like to go, Ch-Chase?"

He looked at him sharply, "To the bank. You are planning on robbing it, correct?"

Jack grinned brightly and nodded his head enthusiastically, "So you're going to help me?"

"No."

He stared at him, "Then why are you coming with me, Chase?"

"To watch," He stated matter-o-factly.

"O-Okay…" With that said, he pulled the key out of his pocket, pushed it into the key slot, and started the car and drove off towards the bank.

---

He did some breathing exercises; his nerves so wired up that he felt truly afraid. "Okay, Jack, okay, you can do this." He whispered to himself, staring down at the center of the steering wheel.

Chase stared at him impatiently, "You're soft, Spicer." He said harshly, making Jack jump with surprise.

His fingers shook uncontrollably as he stared at Chase Young. "I-I knew you were going to say that." He muttered quietly, slowly unbuckling himself. He opened the door and stared at the sunny entrance of the bank. He pulled in a deep breath and stepped out of the car. His legs felt like jell-o, but he braced himself against his car for a minute, taking his time to gain some confidence. He felt the metal barrel of his particle gun against his chest, even though the bulletproof jacket was strapped between Jack and the gun. He exhaled slowly and slammed the door shut. He pulled a bag from the back seat and slowly climbed up the steps and towards the entrance. For a split second, he felt like he was waltzing. He couldn't figure out why either.

Chase stepped up next to him and passed him. He entered the bank, disappearing from Jack's sight.

He took deep breaths as he stood in front of the front entrance, and with all the courage he had, pushed the door open. With the bag hidden within the folds of his cloak-like jacket, he carefully stepped into line and waited.

A small portion of time passed as the line slowly thinned away. Finally, the person in front of him left and he stepped forward. He noticed, glancing to both sides, that the other lines were just as long as his own.

Perfect.

He stepped forward and faced the young man standing behind the glass barrier (the one where there was only a small opening at the bottom where the customer and the clerk exchanged things.) He pulled in a deep breath and smiled at him.

"May I help you?" He asked pleasantly.

"You sure can!" Jack said jubilantly, smiling even brighter. He quickly pulled out his particle gun and held it up towards the man's face. With the other hand, he pulled out the large bag and presented it to the man, "Give me all your money!"

The man's eyes grew wide and he stared at the sixteen-year-old with shock. He didn't move, too shocked to respond.

Jack frowned, his teeth bared. His hormones were pumping into him almost as quickly as his heart was beating. His adrenaline was taking over; dimming is brilliant mind only slightly. He pushed the bag under the slot and snapped his fingers at the man impatiently, "C'mon, c'mon!" He barked, eyes glowing red.

The man took the bag and quickly knelt down to fill it with money.

Jack sneered and pulled the trigger, a wide, blue beam shot out of the barrel and at the glass, melting it instantly. "If anyone tries anything, this'll happen to you!" He yelled to the frightened people standing in the bank. "Now, get down on the floor. All of you, but _you_!" He pointed the gun at the petrified looking man who was, just a moment ago, stuffing large wads of money into the large burlap bag. Jack laughed casually to himself as he looked at the singed hair on the young man's head.

The scared people dropped to the floor like dead flies and pressed themselves flat.

Jack continued to smile at the loyalty the people were presenting to him. He casually hummed to himself as he watched the man scuttle around the back, dumping bills into the bag.

A loud, shrill bell sounded and lights flashed red all of a sudden.

Jack growled to himself and looked around the bank. "Okay, who did that? Show yourself!" He screamed angrily, still spinning slowly to see all of the people. He climbed onto the counter and looked down at the people hiding behind the counter. He looked down the row, not spotting anyone too suspicious. His black brows furrowed close to his wine colored eyes and he jumped down on the other side.

The people looked at him with large doe eyes, pleading for their innocence.

He passed down the row, motioning for the man from before to continue his work. He started at the beginning and slowly walked down the row, looking under the table for the activated button. Seeing that none of them seemed to have been pressed, he assumed that they were intended to do that. He gripped the collar of a middle-aged woman's shirt and yanked her from under the counter. He held the gun to her head and presented her to everyone within the bank.

Everyone held his or her breath, praying that he wasn't going to kill her.

"Now tell me," He called, "Who pressed the alarm?" He looked down at the people hiding, eyes sharp. "If no one talks, I'll just assume it was this lovely lady here," He pressed the gun against her head, tilting it, "And I'll have no choice but to kill her."

The woman (who was taller than him, to his dismay) started to shake noticeably. Jack was forced to move into a different position to keep a hold of her.

Chase watched from a corner of the bank with a bemused look, his teeth bared and his eyes glowing a malicious red.

"Looks like no one has the guts to stand up and save her life." He said casually, finger hovering close to the trigger, "Hello, ma'am. What's your name?" He asked, looking at her kindly.

She looked at him with great confusion, "M-My name?" She asked, voice cracking under the pressure.

"Yes, ma'am, I would love to know your name." He grinned like a child, his innocence shining briefly.

"I-I'm C-Cathy Silverton." She said, voice shaking.

He shook her hand quickly (even though she had it extremely withdrawn,) "Pleasure meeting you, Ms. Silverton." He said gleefully, "Any spouse? Children?"

"M-Married, n-n-no children." She managed to sputter out.

He nodded his head in understanding, "I see, I see." He quickly pressed the trigger and the beam burst out, obliterating her head completely. The decapitated body slumped to the floor, blood splattering out and onto the shocked and frightened people on the floor near it.

A small child started to cry in horror.

Jack adjusted his goggles and looked over at the growing bag of cash. "Eh, she seemed like a snitch to me." He smiled gracefully, wiping his sticky red hand on his jacket. He licked his chapped lips and sat down on the counter once again, swinging his legs back and forth idly as he watched the man continue to fill the bag at a sluggish pace. He tapped the metal gun against the marble counter, making it echo throughout the frightened bank.

"C'mon, faster man. I'm not getting any younger." He joked, his pearly white grin bared.

The man hurried his pace, pleasing Jack.

He sighed, grin falling and a neutral face being replaced. He looked over at the young boy crying and watched him in a semi-trance. He jumped down from the counter and walked over towards him. He knelt down in front of him and his shaking mother. He held out a hand to her and motioned for her to take it.

She grabbed it, shaking, probably expecting the worse.

He helped her up to her feet and picked the boy up soon after. He looked at her, large red eyes dulled. "What's his name?" He asked, looking down at the black haired boy with large green eyes.

She was shaking still and she let out an involuntary voice crack when she opened her mouth. She licked her lips and replied quietly, "Philip."

"Phil…" He muttered, staring at them both, "Well, Phil and Phil's Mom; please follow me." He said, stepping in the spaces between the people's bodies. They followed after him slowly, afraid for their lives.

He stepped near the door, looking at Chase for a brief moment, before facing the mother and child. He motioned for them to move faster, and they did so, eyes wide as they stared at their one ticket to freedom. He took several quick breaths, but couldn't stop the tears from spilling out of his eyes.

God, he was such a coward. It made him sick.

He sniffled, staring at the mother and child (both were openly shocked by Jack's sudden tears), and gripped the bank handle. He watched from the corner of his blurry eye at the many, many police cars that were parked in front of the bank and at the flock of gun-clad cops surrounding it. He took another deep breath and blinked the tears away. He opened his parched mouth, and his voice rang out strong; saying, "I am Jack Spicer: Evil Boy Genius! Don't forget!" He pushed the door open and the mother and child rushed out towards safety. He slammed the door shut after quickly afterwards. He stared out of the safety glass and at the mother and kid as they were embraced by the comforting police and rushed to a paramedic.

A bald policeman stepped forward and held up an activated megaphone. "Please, release the hostages and come out with your hands in the air!" He yelled into it. Jack scoffed and spun around and stepped back to the counter. The man was just about finished, but he was taking much longer than Jack had wanted. He held up the gun again and shot the metal filing cabinet right next to the man. The metal glowed and melted quickly, the paper within already reduced to ash.

The man jumped with a yelp and hurried along, stuffing everything else into the bag. He held the bag out hesitantly to Jack, his whole body shaking.

Jack ripped it from his grip and slung it around his shoulder. He pulled another, regular gun from inside his coat. Now holding guns in both hands, he walked over towards the door; his particle gun held towards the police while the other was pointed to the hostages. He stood in front of one of the metal pillars (just in case they had those dear bullets that shattered safety glass) and looked down at the hostages. "Stand up!" He ordered, voice cracking slightly: but only slightly.

The hostages stood up slowly and faced him, their bodies quivering with fear.

"Alright, follow me." He instructed, opening the door and stepping out. He stared at the police intensely, both guns held up into the air. "If anyone of you runs before I instruct you to, I will shoot you dead." He muttered to them.

Chase followed out and stepped to the back of the line calmly.

He stepped down, an orderly line following after him, and towards the armed police. He didn't stop even as he closed in on the cops; he simply walked straight towards them until they were forced to move out of the way. "If you remove anyone from this line, I will kill you and the hostage." He announced with brilliant smile. Jack continued to walk through the many police officers calmly; the power flowing through his veins was amazing to him. As he exited the flood of police officers, something sudden caught his eye.

A man quickly jumped down in front of him, forcing him to stop.

Jack gapped as he recognized the said man as the Brazilian man who refereed to himself as the eerily familiar name of Raimundo Pedrosa. "What are _you_ doing here?" Jack asked with as much malice as he could possibly conjure.

He was staring at him with pure shock, but quickly turned serious as he stared down at him.

"Jack Spicer, what are you doing?"

Jack looked to his right were another man, bald with nine glowing dots engraved into his forehead, jumped down and joined the Brazilian man. He held up his particle gun and waved it back and forth between Rai and the mystery man. "I swear to god that if you try to stop me I'll kill you right here and now!" He screamed, his voice large and sharp and angry. Jack jumped as Chase stepped out of line and stood right next to him.

He smiled evilly towards the two monks, his sharp teeth bared. "You better listen to Spicer…" He warned, a hint of pride within his voice, "Or you'll end up like that Miss back in the bank. What was her name again?" He asked Jack, brushing something that wasn't there off of his armor.

"Mrs. Silverton," Jack answered, staring at Young with large, star-struck eyes.

"Right, right," He said casually, patting Jack on the head in a loving manner.

Jack smiled happily and practically started to purr from the feel.

Both men bared their teeth at the two of them.

"I'd like to see the day where Jack Spicer actually did something useful!" Raimundo boasted loudly.

Jack quivered and glared at him. His hand shook as he fingered the trigger. "I'll do it! I really will!" He yelled, steadying his hand and resting his finger against the curved metal of the trigger.

"Oh, yes!" The bald man exclaimed, "Jack Spicer never did anything threatening!"

"Be careful, Omi," Chase warned, smiled and pulled his hand away from Jack's head, "This is the reincarnation of Jack Spicer. He may still have the personality of the old Jack Spicer (with a couple differences, of course,) but he's defiantly improved for the last one."

Jack stared at him with large eyes, taking the information in. He looked back at Rai and Omi and took a deep breath. "Correct," He stated and pulled the trigger. A large, even larger than the one in the bank, beam shot forward at Raimundo.

The hostages screamed at the sight of it, still remembering about belated Misses Silverton.

Rai jumped high and out of the deadly rays reach and flipped towards the right to join Omi.

He swung his arm towards the right, the blue beam following. The asphalt was bubbling and most part of it showed the dirt (now singed) that was underneath.

The two men jumped out of the way, legs working at ungodly strength.

Chase stepped into action and halted the two in their tracks. He smiled and flashed into his reptilian form.

Many watchers screamed in horror as the lizard man lurched forward and gripped tightly around Raimundo's right arm.

"Thanks Chase!" Jack yelled to him and started to jog away. He ignored the hostages and hurriedly ran down the street.

Pedestrians screamed and jumped out of his way, not wanting to get shot.

He peered over his shoulder and at his surrounded, and very much loved, car and at Chase Young. His heart was pounding hard already, and his breath was getting short and choppy. He seriously had to work out more… Jack gripped the strap slung over his shoulder, mostly to see if it was still there, and continued to make his escape.

Police sirens screamed behind him and bullets hit the pavement near his feet.

He slid his goggles over his eyes and clumsily slammed his heels to the ground. Four wheels popped out from each of his boots and small engines came from the back of his shoes. The engines fired up and a bright yellow flame shot out from them, pushing him forward at breakneck speed.

He could feel a bullet hit his protected shoulder, the force making his shoulder burn a bit. He winced, knowing full well that he was going to get a bruise there.

It amazed him, really, how even in mid-Twenty-Sixth Century; the human race still hadn't made more efficient guns. Sure, the power, which propelled the bullet, was different, better for the environment (just as how cars were yet to fly and the only thing that changed was the fuel type) but the gun in general was the same thing as it was in the Twenty-First Century.

He quickly roller-skated his way down the street, trying his best to get away from the police who were chasing him. He yelped as Chase landed next to him, still in his dangerous dragon-like form.

"Don't be such a coward, Spicer." He growled at him.

"S-Sorry Chase!" He skirled, "I-I think I used up all my courage back at the bank!" He yelled over the whipping wind.

"I noticed." Chase replied. He flashed back into human and ran beside Jack with ease. He wrapped his arm around Jack's waist (making Jack blush brightly) and instructed him to turn off his rocket skates.

Jack followed his orders and lurched forward from the abruptness of it all.

Chase held his hold on him and kept Jack balanced. And with no movement at all, they were suddenly transported out of there and to a place that lived fresh in Jack's memory, but he couldn't recall ever being there.

"Where are we?" He asked, pushing his goggles onto his forehead again.

"You are within my palace." Chase told him with a sharp grin. "Please don't annoy my cats."

He looked around in awe and spotted the many jungle cats lounging around on the many pillars and on the tiled floor. "_Wow_!" He wooed, becoming doe-eyed.

"Follow me, Spicer." Chase instructed, "I'll show you to your room."


	4. The Realization

**The Realization:**

He felt groggy and heavy-hearted when he slowly awoke the next day. He couldn't help but pull the fluffy covers over him more and snuggled against the large plush pillow that rested under his head. He mutely yawned and turned a little to his side. Jack froze all of a sudden and snapped his red eyes open. He sat up quickly and awkwardly and accidentally knocked the covers off of the bed. His frail seeming body shook suddenly as the cold relentlessly bit at his exposed arms, chest, and neck. He looked around the darkened room and locked his eyes on the large rectangular shape that was on the wall. Filtered light was coming from it, creating a dull glow in the room. His heart was hammering in his chest as he climbed off the bed. He jumped as the cold marble floor shot more tendrils of cold up and down his pale body. He cautiously walked over towards the light-emitting rectangle, and when he came close enough to it, Jack discovered that it was actually a shoji. He almost face-palmed for being so stupid. He pushed open the sliding, paper made, door and winced as bright light filled the dark room. He let out a nasally sound and tripped out of the room and onto the cold tiled floor.

"I see that you've awoken."

Jack scrambled to his feet and looked up at Chase.

He was smiling at him, amused by Jack's clumsiness.

"Yeah…" He muttered shyly while his body turned a dull pink.

"Yes, well, let us have breakfast." He said with a sneer and started walking.

Jack followed after him like an obedient puppy, an embarrassed smile plastered on his still pink face.

---

Jack sat in front of the feast with utter confusion and amazement. His eyes were large, the contacts within them stinging from the prolonged time they were there, and he could feel his mouth opening slightly. On the large, rounded marble table were many, many plates with some of the most interesting (and delicious) looking food Jack had ever seen: piles of cooked and raw meats, plates of steaming vegetables and bowls of cut and whole pieces of fruit; towards the very center there was a cake with green and white colored frosting. But, what caught Jack's attention right off the bat was the strange soup that sat in front of the man sitting across from him.

"Uh," Jack choked out in a not so intelligent manner, "Chase, what kind of soup is that?" He asked, his uneasiness palpable.

"Lao-Mang-Lon. I'm quite surprised that you haven't noticed it…" Chase said, slowly churning the greenish liquid with his spoon, the dragon tail shifting slightly back and forth with Chase's movements.

Jack shrugged, "I dunno'. It kind of rings a bell, but I'm just drawing blanks." He replied, still staring at it.

"You should grab whatever you can, I'm feeling rather hungry today." Chase warned him, sharp golden eyes pointed at him.

Jack 'eek'-ed and grabbed a small plate of food. He nibbled on the chicken wing he had grabbed and blinked. He had forgotten the last time he ate a meal like this. He mostly just ate snacks, take-out, or whatever he found in the refrigerator. He was mildly disturbed by the sudden silence that fell over them as the two ate. Usually there was the constant hum of his computer or the dull undertone of the public people whenever he ate at a restaurant, but now there was nothing. He couldn't even hear Chase eating, and it made him slightly panicky. So, to get rid of the gut wrenching silence that was slowly and surely driving Jack Spicer insane, he decided to partake in the classic act of small talk.

He opened his mouth (clear of food, thankfully,) paused, and shut his mouth with an audible 'snap'. He chewed at his lip and pressed the chicken leg, which previously hung limply between his forefinger and thumb, into his peaches. He wasn't quite in the mood to eat anymore. Some underlining, unnerving fear pressed itself against his whole body, making him feel awkward, exposed, and very sick. If only he could figure out what was troubling him…

"What's the matter, Spicer? Already regretting what you did?" Chase asked, eyes keen on him even as he continued to eat.

Jack's shoulders stiffened and he stared up at him with confusion, "What would I regret?" He asked, honestly not knowing.

For a brief moment, Chase had stared at Jack with surprise, but his cool features came back and he placed his elbow onto the table and leaned his face against the palm of his hand. "Dear Lord—" He mumbled under his breath with irritation, "—Spicer, you do remember what happened yesterday, correct?"

"Eh," He started unintelligently, scratching his chin as he thought back to yesterday. Slowly and surely, the details came back to him; the large bag of money, the death of the woman, the two men, the-the _death_ of _Cathy Silverton_, _spouse_ of Mr. (Maybe Mrs.) Silverton. He was a _killer,_ a cold-blooded _killer without any regard to a life. _He had almost _laughed out loud_ when he saw her fall onto the floor, blood splattering, from the neck where a head once was, against the other hostages. Laughed, he had almost laughed. And then, for a brief moment, he had considered killing that child who was crying; the damn child that reminded him so much of his own pathetic worthlessness that it had frightened him to no end. Just so that he would _shut up_, so that he would stop him wretched sobbing with weakness, so that he wouldn't have to look upon him and remind him that _that was what he looked like when he was younger_.

His eyes were the size of dinner plates (blood covered dinner plates) by the time he snapped out of his small delirium. He felt faint-ish, so much so that he pushed his plate aside and rested his head against the circular table just to make the room stop spinning. He licked his chapped lips, squeezing his eyes shut and forcing the tears back as much as he could, and straightened up. He wiped his eyes dry and sniffled for a brief moment before collecting himself once again. "I remember now…" He mumbled quietly, dejectedly.

"Oh, that's pleasant to hear. Now tell me, Jack, how do you feel?" He questioned, tone of voice lighter than Jack had ever heard it before.

He slowly stood up, his hand gripping the table while the other rested on his stomach, and looked down at the floor with a sick look. He discreetly noticed that his skin looked a lot like travertine, much paler and whiter than his skin had ever been before.

"Sick," He mumbled quietly. His knees felt like boiled noodles and he slowly started to notice the fact that he wasn't very stable. He was definably _not_ okay.

---

He curled up against the bed, unable to control the desperate sobs and tears that came out of him. God, it hurt so much. He was a sick, horrible being. Jack clenched his forehead; the pulsating headache that he had was not helping his already wrenching (and now totally empty,) stomach and ground out several wet sobs.

He, surprisingly, fell asleep quickly, tears still dripping from the corners of his eyes.

---

An older version of Jack clenched a pale gold item with both his hands. It looked very much like a handle with an unopened flower bud attached to the end.

The actual Jack had never seen the item before in his entire life.

In what can only be called an out of body experience, Jack watched himself (seemingly older, maybe eighteen or twenty, he couldn't quite tell) inhale sharply and licked his lips in a fashion that he did whenever he was making a tough decision.

Older Jack was trembling lightly, short red hair hanging onto his forehead (the disappearance of his favorite goggles made him seem to have bangs) while his large fingers squeezed tighter around the handle-like object. Several more shuttering breaths and Older Jack had stopped shaking.

Suddenly, the door flew open and four people rushed in, gasping as they looked at Older Jack.

Normal Jack was greatly confused and slightly frightened to see that two of the three males in the group looked eerily familiar to the bald man and the Brazilian man he had seen before, only younger. Along with them was a stereotypical cowboy sort of character and an Asian girl.

Older Jack's eyes snapped open, large maroon irises pinpointing the strange object that he clutched in his hand. He grit his teeth and screamed words Normal Jack was unable to understand.

Why couldn't he understand? Why, why, why? He felt like screaming with aggravation.

Normal Jack watched in horror, along with the four teens, as the object in Older Jack's hand burst open. The bud like thing opened up into a white flower and suddenly a flash of light hit Older Jack. Older Jack let out a scream of pain and then he was gone from the face of the earth.

The object fell to the floor with several clatters and the poorly lit area became silent.

The four teens were quiet for a long time before they all gathered around and cried. They spoke softly, speaking things Jack still couldn't understand.

But, even when he couldn't understand what they said, he still felt deep lament and, oddly, a little happiness towards the four other teens.

---

He woke up quickly, even though his body refused to follow along. He licked his lips and slowly crawled out of the bed. He disposed of his contacts (his eyes sore, stinging, and bloodshot) and pulled the bag filled with money he stole and sat down on the floor.

Slowly and carefully he started to count, organizing the money into neat piles.

---

The door of his 'bedroom' opened and Chase looked in on him.

Jack sat still, eyes looking over the neat rows of paper and coins. He clenched and unclenched his hands, "Five thousand, eight-hundred and ninety-seven dollars and three cents." He said in a low voice. Jack moved around the three pennies on the ground in lazy circles, eyes still lowered towards the floor, unable to look up at the immortal. What the hell? Three pennies? What?

"Hmm, you seem unpleased." Chase commented, looking at him with a raised brow.

"That guy cheated me!" Jack yelled, jumping to his feet.

"How so?"

Jack groaned, gripping his pounding forehead with his right hand. "The guy didn't even go into the safe—" he groaned, "—and I was stupid enough not to notice."

Chase sneered, "What's with the change in opinion?"

Jack felt blood rush up to his face in a blush, "Oh, no, no, you are mistaken. I-I was just excited… Yeah, that's right, excited." He lied.

Chase sneered at him, "Is that so?"

"Y-Yeah…"

"Hn, come Spicer, it's time for breakfast."

---

He was deafly quiet while shifting his food around his plate during lunchtime. He spared glances up at Chase every few moments, several very important questions bubbling in his gut. Jack slowly took a sip from his glass of milk and looked up at Chase once again.

The immortal man set down the empty bowl that once held his special soup and started to pile his plate full of food. He glanced down at him with a seemingly unemotional face and opened his mouth to speak. "I see that you have gray eyes apposed to the red I have always seen…" He stated.

He took another sip and shakily placed his glass back down. "Yeah," He muttered, "M-M-My contacts hurt my eyes if they're in t-too long."

"Ah, I see." He replied smoothly, cutting apart his food with his fork and knife.

The two were quiet as they both continued to eat their lunch. The minutes passed eventually and Jack could feel the questions growing and growing and growing—

"You said that I was the… Reincarnation… Of Jack Spicer," He began slowly, "What was the past me like?"

He cracked a dazzling smile, "Past Spicer was a genius in robotics. He was a coward and was not fit to be evil _or_ good. Spicer was… I guess you could say… A complete and utter disgrace in a large majority of what he did."

Jack frowned, looking at him disheartened. "Oh…" He bit his lip roughly, pulling away the soft skin.

"He trusted no one. He was too accustomed to being abandoned by his 'evil' partner, Wuya, that he constantly back-stabbed the side that he was on." Chase continued, taking a bite of his food, "But,"

Jack looked at him intently and wondered what he'd say next.

"But, he had a great amount of potential. Too bad he committed suicide before he could actually make use of it." His voice had lowered incredibly.

He stood up quickly, his willowy fingers gripping the edge of the table. His breath was held and his eyes were wide as he stared at the stony cool warlord. "_That's what it was!_" He yelled high and loud.

Young looked at him with a raised eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate further.

He inhaled and exhaled sharply, the small amount of color that filled him draining away, leaving him as white as a sheet of paper. His eyes still pointed to Chase, large, stressed, and watery. "Th-th-the dream last night… It was s-something my _past life_ did." He stated. The teen paused; the information slowly began to click into place.

Dreams of the 'evil' side—_Heylin_— colors, a man with long hair—_Chase Young_—, a woman that resembled a crow—_Wuya_—, and the four teens from his dream…

Omi, Clay Bailey, Kimiko Tohomiko, Raimundo Pedrosa the Xiaolin monks; the enemy, the good guys, the goody two shoes…

He understood: the men who confronted him after his evil stunt, the way Chase seemed to know a lot about him even before he told him, the dreams that he had.

"What was the dream?" Chase asked, jerking Jack out of his own thoughts.

His mouth was suddenly parched and his tongue felt swollen. He licked his lips quickly and opened his mouth again to try and speak, "An older version of myself shot himself with a strange item and disappeared right before my (and these four other kids) eyes."

Chase suddenly frowned and his eyebrows furrowed. His eyes flashed red and then flashed back to gold, albeit a little darker than the norm. "Ah, yes," Despite the earlier show of displeasure about the topic, Chase's voice was calm and collected, "I do remember that."

Jack stared at him, lips pressed into a tight line. He slowly sat back down, his hands still gripping the table.

"Why?" His voice was barely over a whisper. Jack could barely hear it himself.

"Why? Why would Jack Spicer commit suicide? … Well, I myself am not one hundred percent sure as to why he did it, but I have a pretty good idea." He gave a smile, one sad and reserved, "As I stated earlier, he was a complete and total failure and disgrace. Couldn't even tie his own shoes without his dear mother's help. I'm just assuming that he was so overwhelmed by his own uselessness that he decided to end it."

Jack slid off of his chair and slumped onto the cool floor. He gripped his knees to his chest and let out a loud whimpering sound, one of desperation and confusion and need.

---

Despite having several major breakdowns in a small span of time and, ignoring the fact that he had fallen into a mini stress-coma for about a week or so, Jack was pretty okay (in a sense).

His hair did fade back to its normal black though (the remaining red had turned a dark pink color, rather queer looking really, for it didn't even match his contacts let alone his actual eye color.)

He had gotten out of bed (not his home bed, of course, but the one Chase Young had graciously loaned him) about three weeks later; limbs sore, skinnier than normal, and weak.

---

He slowly and carefully stepped down the long and winding hallways, trekking his way towards the dining room where his dinner would, as usual, be there waiting for him. He stayed quiet; graying eyes angled towards the ground, and entered the room and stepped towards the circular table where Chase Young sat. He took a seat, still avoiding eye contact (to save whatever sanity his teenage body still held onto,) and took food upon his awaiting plate.

He ate everything that was on his plate, trying to build up the strength he had lost during his 'sleep', and promptly thanked Chase Young for the meal (still looking at the ground rather than at the immortal man himself.)

And, as Jack walked back to his 'room', he felt all the betraying thoughts of fleeing from the cave-side palace, but was unable to form the thoughts into actions. He trusted the man too damn much for his own good, and he could barely understand why, but he did and could not stop trusting the man. Even though Chase Young did follow his promises and was actually very trustworthy, Jack still felt the ever-present untrustworthiness that the man had lingering around him like deadly miasma.

Jack Spicer was conflicted.

---

One stormy day, there was a wild ruckus in the palace.

It had aroused Jack from his dreamless sleep and made his seemingly dead curiosity grow. So, he did what every curious sixteen-year-old would do, and got out of bed and headed towards the wild noise that was coming from the majestic main room of Chase's palace.

As he walked down the darkened hallways (he was so very used to them that he wasn't so afraid of the dark as he was before he had met Chase Young,) he started to grow more and more conscious of the small level of water that started rising around his bare feet. The water was icy; enough to make him shiver from head to toe and make his toes want to contract into his feet for heat. He was feeling kind of numb...

Jack slowly peered over the corner of the long hall and into the main room, the water reaching his ankles. His eyes went wide as he stared at the two men, the ones that had stopped him and Chase during his most 'daring' bank robbery, fight against Chase.

The odds were not on Chase's side, apparently.

Jack gripped the corner of the wall, the part of his mind that Chase brainwashed ordering him to run out and try to help at least, while the logical part of his mind screamed at him, telling him that he wouldn't be any help but, rather, a burden! He gulped in deep breaths and pushed away from the wall. He ran into the main room (dressed only in his red boxers) and screamed at the top of his lungs, "_Chase_!" Despite his body turning 'blue' from the cold, he wheeled himself further into the room and stood as strongly as his willowy body would allow.

Omi and Raimundo stopped and looked at him with strong eyes.

Chase, still within stance such as Omi and Rai, slowly stood up with a regal air, and walked over towards him. "What's the matter Jack?" He asked, as if there weren't too grown men ready to beat the evil out of him standing in the room.

Jack didn't look at Chase's face; he couldn't, but rather, looked at the two Xiaolin Monks. He grinned slowly and unevenly, feeling a sudden urge to mock them despite them being the better.

"Hay, 'sup Chrome-Dome!" He called, lifting his head up so that he could look him the eye. And suddenly, all Jack wanted to do at that moment was to sew his lips shut so that he would never speak again. What was he thinking? Talking to people so much stronger than him like that!

The two men were quiet, but he could see the slight flush on Omi's cheeks as he remembered the old nickname that was used to belittle him. But, the slight humiliation was quickly covered by an overwhelming sadness that washed out of him and flowed into the room like a large, but relatively calm, wave.

And, for a moment, Jack forgot about the cold water that was rising up to his knees and the whole shen-gong-wu situation. He stood, numb, and slowly looked over towards Chase. He, after a decent five weeks of not looking at the tai-chi master, finally looked up and at his face. At the golden eyes that didn't seem vicious like he had thought and at the high cheekbones that were set under smooth olive skin.

"Jack, what is the matter?" He asked again, a little more pressing than he was the first time.

Large pillars of ice seemed to grow within his stomach as he continued to stare at Chase. When had he started calling him 'Jack' rather than the usual 'Spicer'?

"W-Wh-W-What's g-going on-n-n, Ch-Chase?" He asked feeling the chill take over his speech. Time returned to normalcy, he was still standing in knee deep ice water in only his boxers while to enemies stood, ready to fight, right behind him.

He gave a jerking chill and felt his whole body seem to freeze up on him. He inhaled sharply and watched as the corners of his vision start to darken before going completely black.

The last thing he could feel was the air rushing through his hair, as if he were falling down a large cavern.


	5. The Conclusion

**The Conclusion:**

Chase leaped forward and caught the boy before he fell into the ice water. His eyes widened a fraction as the cold from the teens skin sank through his gloves and chilled his hands. He stared at the small; strangely colored boy and felt a rare, tender smile cross his face. He lifted the willowy body from the water and held him in his arms.

"Leave my home," His voice was reptilian, he was not taking 'no' for an answer, "_now_."

He sent a sharp, dangerous glare at the two very stunned monks and carried Jack back to his room, noting that the water that Omi had flooded his palace home with was starting to recede.

---

Jack gripped tightly onto the warmth, grinning like a child, and nuzzled against it. His lids were heavy with fatigue and he was fine with that. He wanted to sleep with this warmth around him.

But, he wasn't able to, because two strong hands gripped his shoulders and shook them roughly.

Jack slowly opened his eyes against their will, and pulled away from the black warmth. He blinked, vision clearing, and looked at the cloak of midnight black that had been a welcoming pillow a moment ago. He stared at the small fibers and finally realization clicked. He was nuzzling against black hair. Long, thick black hair.

He looked up, gray-green eyes wide with understanding, and looked at Chase.

"Jack, whatever you do, do not fall asleep." He warned. Chase either ignored or did not notice the fact that Jack was cuddling with him a moment ago.

He still felt tired, and he was irritable that his lovely source of heat was taken away from him. Until now, he wasn't aware of the deadly numb that had taken over his body. He noticed with horror that he was unable to flex his fingers fully, and rather, they lifted slightly before falling back into their limp state. Wow, his skin was really pale at the moment... Kind of blue...

"Oh-Okay," He mumbled, eyes still fixated on his fingers.

He was lifted off the circular table and carried off down the hall, probably towards his 'room'.

Jack was placed into his bed; the many comforters that were placed on it made him feel even drowsier than he was before but very much more content. Several heavy masses joined him on the bed, but he was too tired to look at what they were. He looked away from his blue, slightly puffy fingers and up at Chase, who sat next to him.

Something smooth was placed against the crevice between his lips, and he recognized it as a cup or bowl. He opened his mouth to allow the liquid in, and was happy to find that the drink being fed to him was sweet and warm. Like liquidized caramel...

It tasted fantastic.

Slowly and unsteadily, his body began to warm up to what it was before, and he started to feel better...

---

Officer Clark was new. The older and more experienced officers often teased him about being a newbie, but, it was all in good nature, so it didn't bother him all that much. In fact, in the next five years, he'd probably do the same to the newbie of his generation.

He would never forget the first day he was on the job.

It was a relatively peaceful day, a Friday, and he was doing office work at the time; the usual, shoplifter here and a DWI there, just a normal day.

When suddenly the call came in. There was a robbery in progress!

That was just what Officer Clark needed. He wanted to do something exciting on his first day of the job. Something that would show off how good of a police officer he was and epic!

How wrong he was to want those things...

By the time they had made it there, they could clearly see a great ruckus going on within the bank through the clear doors. They had the place surrounded, guns held up and bulletproof jackets on. The chief had stepped to the front and started to try and negotiate with the bank robber(s) via megaphone. But, the robber(s) did not do anything to acknowledge them. It was hard to see the robber and they couldn't tell if there was more than one, but they did see that the person had short red hair and wore dark clothing.

After two of the many hostages were freed something very scary happened. Even though the chief was still doing his best to get through to the still faceless robber, the man still didn't acknowledge them.

The bank robber, a sixteen-year-old boy! Came walking out with a gun pointed at them and a gun positioned by his side, a line of hostages following after them.

The boy, he was not normal. Along with the bloody colored hair and eyes, the dark clothing, and the seemingly advanced ability in using guns, there was fresh blood on the hems of his pants. The boy was a freak!

Once the strange occurrences were over (ones that Officer Clark were still having trouble believing) the police made their way into the bank. The sight, to say the least, was gruesome. A dead woman, completely beheaded, was slumped against the floor, blood pooling around her in an alarming rate. Upon inspecting the bank more, one of the files behind the counter (along with the safety glass supposedly keeping the people safe) was melted completely.

They were able to gather many things for the 'case'. A car that the type was unknown, DNA from the car, and the name and physical appearance of the boy.

Jack Spicer, age: unknown (obviously teens), hair color: red, eye color: red...

The car, black in color, had hair and skin samples of two people. They were still processing it, to find out who they really were, but they were close. The car was placed within the evidence room.

Officer Clark was determined to be useful in the case.

---

He didn't know when he fell sleep, but a rough tongue licking his cheek rudely awakened him. And, for a very brief moment where his dreams and reality combined, he believed that Chase was the one doing so.

Jack's eyes snapped open and he looked back and forth, searching for the source. His heart rate had sped up so fast, that he was soon loosing his breath.

"Calm down, Jack, it's just one of my cats: Sasha." Chase explained.

He blinked, looking at the Black Panther that was still licking his cheek in a loving manner. He smiled weakly, and pulled a weak arm out from under the comforters and placed a hand on top of the cat's head. He stroked the smooth fur on top of the creatures head and listened to it purr.

"Ch-Chase," He murmured, feeling the drowse of sleep fill his eyes.

Chase Young looked at him with interest.

"Why do you put up with me? You didn't like the old Jack Spicer, so why do you like the new Jack Spicer?"

The warlord was silent, pondering.

"Chase?" He asked, unable to keep his eyes open.

"I did like the old Jack Spicer. Even though he was a pain in my side, annoyed me, and practiced unneeded hero worship, he had potential to be useful and did entertain me on my not-so-very-rare days of boredom."

Jack yawned, his eyes already closed and his heart rate slowing. He curled up with Sasha, the warmth of his comforters keeping him content. "Thanks for telling me that..." He mumbled, drifting between sleep and consciousness.

---

Thin lips against thin lips, small hands gripping broad shoulders, affection against affection.

Chase grinned as his hands gripped his waist and lifted him onto the circular dinner table. He pressed their lips together again, grinning as he shuddered and kissed back.

He could see flashes of red behind his closed eyelids and his heart was hammering in his chest as fast as the wings of a humming bird. His mind felt blank, and really, only primal thoughts, ones that kept him breathing and his heart beating, circulated throughout his thick skull. This was pleasurable, he was happy for it, he didn't want it to end, etcetera.

---

He really missed his car. A lot.

And it was sad, because Jack was unable to name his dear baby before he had it taken away, like some brat and his matchbox car that he just so happened to stuff up his grandpa's nose just for the heck of it.

Jack really wanted to name her Tessa, too.

So sad...

---

The situation was... One with mixed feelings.

The DNA samples they had gotten from the car were very good for finding local persons. The first one, the one of the boy they later found out, was one Gary Hult. Age: sixteen, hair: black, eyes: gray. The second, they found no one fitting the standards. Within a week, they found out that there was no one within the whole country with that DNA.

Very, very worrisome.

---

They had raided Mr. Gary Hult's home one a cloudy Tuesday. They swept the whole house, but they didn't find anyone within it other than a very startled maid. They questioned said maid and learned that 'Jack' was a 'close-in' type of person, and rarely left his bedroom. He only came out for school, bathroom needs, to get food, and to go into the garage. They also learned that his parents were almost never home, leading the investigation team to consider that the fact that he was isolated most of his life was the reason why he robbed the bank and killed Mrs. Silverton in the first place.

But, what caught their attention was the small fact that Jack spent a lot of time in the garage. So, they went to check it out.

The first person to step within the garage, one Mr. Yaganti, was shot straight in the forehead and was dead before he hit the floor.

The police later learned that the garage was rigged with weight sensitive traps and there were at least four video cameras within the workspace itself that recorded everything.

It seemed as if the suspect had dropped off the face of the planet...

Gary Hult a.k.a. Jack Spicer was one tricky, yet ingenious, son of a gun.

---

On Jack's seventeenth birthday, Chase had gotten back Jack's car. He was, to say the least, ecstatic when he found it within the main room the morning of his birthday.

He had spent almost all day lounging within the car, happy as a clam.

Chase never told the other birthday gift he had given, for it wasn't necessary. He had simply destroyed all of the other evidence within the storage room that involved Jack and killed all of the police officers working on the 'case'.

By the time dinner rolled by, Jack was still sitting within his handmade car, still intaking the beauty of Tessa (he had officially named her that.)

Young stepped up to the tinted window and rapped his knuckles against the strong glass and waited for an answer.

Jack rolled down the window and looked at him with a somewhat dreamy look. He was smiling, as well, "Hmm?"

The immortal pulled the handle to the door and watched it swing open, and (much more amused than he should have been) watched as Jack tumbled out of the car.

The teen landed on his back with a loud thud and winced roughly. He quickly picked himself up and brushed the invisible grime off of his coat.

"Time for dinner."

---

Despite the fact that he was starting to really, _really _like Chase, Jack still felt uncontrollably unsure about the immortal. The worriment of trust between the two was, indeed, not very strong to Jack, but it still lingered. This worried him. He still could feel that _thing_ inside him that made him think about Chase and if he could be trusted or not. He didn't want to feel this thing. It got in the way of some of the best times in his life (while making the hard times even worse.)

Could Chase Young be trusted? Why could he put faith in this man so easily when doing so to others was so hard for him? What made Chase special to him?

His opinion was split two ways for this. The first half said that because his past life was so influenced by Chase Young, it was natural for his next life to be as well. While the other half proclaimed that Chase Young had discovered his incarnation and brainwashed him into being so unconventional towards him.

But by the age of eighteen, he decided to make a leap of faith and follow his instinct rather than his logic. He ran away from Chase's lair and went into hiding in a small complex in northern Africa, near the border of Egypt.

Even though he was positive that Chase would easily be able to find him, he was relieved to see that the man did not pursue him.

---

He spent the next eight years moving from point to point across the world (riding in his customized flying car Tessa) gathering information from several communist scientists, aggressive military leaders, and even an ingenious dictator.

Jack made his money by selling high-tech weapons to warring countries and by gathering 'threat-money' (or money that countries paid him so that he wouldn't blow them to smithereens like all of the collective weapons from the Cold War would do.)

And by the age of twenty-seven, it seemed as if his life was starting to feel like it finally suited him.

* * *

Author's Note: This was originally going to be the ending, but I felt pretty bad about just ending like this. So, I've made an epilogue. (: 


	6. The Epilogue: The Stalemate

**The Epilogue:  
****(The Stalemate)**

Jack stepped out of Tessa and yawned. He patted his chest and walked to his forest surrounded home. The Alaska wind picked up speed, pushing back his short hair until it lay flat against his skull.

As the man entered his home (built out of logs, mostly, along with the usual contraptions that he had made to help make his home even better,) the heat that radiated from the faux-fire in the fireplace was a welcoming sensation compared to the bitter air that twirled outside.

His scarf was taken by one of the many service robots and hung in the closet (technically, it was a super high-tech coat-hanger.)

Jack sat in front of the false, glowing coals. He hefted his still-wet-with-snow boots on top of the squat coffee table that sat in front of him. He turned on the television, checking the news.

_"Today, communist ruler of China, Zu Seimei bombed both France and London. As a result, the UK has organized a mass blockade at China's major ports and has cut all trading ties as well. The blockade is rumored to be up later this week… _

_In the United States, the President has announced that they will help their allies if an official war were to be declared. _

_Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to World War Five."_

Jack groaned and did the ever-usual face-palm. To him, the whole WWV thing was utter nonsense and completely silly. Just because China attacked the UK, it didn't necessarily mean the whole world were to be involved. And anyway, China knew what would happen if there were to be another World War. America would intervene and beat them. (They ended all of the other World Wars, why would this one be an exception?) No, China knew better than that. He should know! He was stationed in Alaska for a reason!

As yes, he remembered the day he was asked to infiltrate the United States very well. One of Zu Seimei's generals had found him one day shopping (He had to get food and materials somehow. Of course, he made sure not to be too noticeable. Apparently he didn't do that great of a job.) After a short chat, he had asked him to come with him back to their temporary military base. Well, he wasn't really in the position to decline, so he followed the general (taking Tessa, because he didn't want to lose her again.)

Long story short; he arrived at the base, talked with the general, finally met the big cheese himself: Zu Seimei and was convinced to help them "break America" (or something like that, he wasn't really paying attention at the time.)

He groaned and dug the heels of his hands against his sore eyes. He turned around and laid down on the sofa. He closed his eyes and made sure to breathe slowly. All he wanted to do right now was sleep.

--

It was odd, having him standing atop plush gray clouds with a clear night sky above him. Generally, he dreamt about much more dangerous things. Brain stimulating things that made his heart pump wildly in his chest despite that fact that he was sleeping. Of course, he'd soon wake up after that but still. He as not expecting to find his dream to be so calm and… Peaceful.

What an oddity.

He could live with this, though…

Jack titled his head up; very much glad his logic didn't get the best of him in his dream. He wasn't particularly in the mood for falling straight through the cloud and becoming a splatter against the cold earth below.

He looked at the constellations and, idly pointing out each one to himself; heck, he even took the time to see if he could make his own. Like the Umbrella from the movie _A Beautiful Mind_. Now if only he had a mate hooked under his right arm, asking for him to make constellations for him or her in an attempt to be romantic.

Oh, that would be oh so _wonderful_.

Not.

He let out a warm breath, watching, as it turned visible and floated away from him. He blinked away all of his pictures and peered back up into the sky with a clean slate.

Much to Jack's displeasure, he found a giant picture made from the stars. It made the image of a man he hadn't seen in quite a while. It made the picture of a man, which he wouldn't ever want to see again.

He slowly connected the lines and groaned sadly. Jack slowly looked back up at the constellation and named it, hoping for closure.

_Chase Young._

--

Wednesdays were his 'off' days. He didn't bother himself with going to meetings, or making better inventions, or even bothering to go outside. No, Wednesdays were his 'off' days, and nothing was going to change that—

Well, with an exception for Chase Young.

--

Jack skyrocketed up the mountainside, relaxed within Tessa's soft seats. His insomnia drooped eyes were half-lidded, sleep trying to creep up on him once more.

No, no, no, no— He needed to stay away. He needed closure once and for all.

Period.

He wasn't sure if he had nodded off, but the next thing he knew, his dear Tessa was skidding to a stop on the slab of rock jutting out from the mountain he was just climbing. He opened his eyes and looked at the wall of rock that lay in front of him. He spotted the small outline of a door and smiled.

Jack stepped out of his car and walked over towards the wall. He slid his hand across the slab, searching for a handle or intent or anything else that would open the door.

But, the door opened all by itself and he frowned shallowly to himself. Jack straightened out his lab coat (which he wore twenty-four/seven) and walked within Chase Young's lair.

He found himself walking down a long hallway. Feeling a sense of déjà vu, he continued on his way, keeping as calm as he possibly could.

The man entered the throne room (which, he noted, was exactly the same as it was when he was a teenager) and looked up at the immortal man. Jack's mature, square jaw cracked, the tension in him building to the extremes. His fingers twitched at his sides, with other small nervous ticks overtook him.

His Adam's apple quivered as he swallowed roughly; his palms were wet.

Despite that fact that it was scarcely silent within the lair, Jack felt overwhelmed.

Chase didn't move. He just sat on his throne, still as regal and young as before, and looked down at him with a kind of arrogance in his eyes.

"Hello Jack," The man greeted, making the other cringe inwardly.

The tai-chi master grinned, and stood up from his throne with an amazing grace.

In all honesty, it was kind of haunting. (At least, in his opinion.)

"Hello Chase," Even as he voiced out his words clearly, he couldn't help but feel his old infatuation for the men rekindle just a little. Chase Young just had that sort of 'aura' to him.

"Why, it's been quite a while, has it not been?" He crossed his arms across his chest as he stepped down the long stairwell. "What? Six years?"

"Eight." Jack corrected immediately.

"Oh, that long?" He said, almost in a condescending way.

Jack's jaw tightened even more, his eyes narrowing at the immortal. He had the distinct feeling of Chase messing with him. "Yes, Chase, that long."

The other man's smile grew a little wider. "Alright, why are you here then, after _eight long years_?" He questioned; toying with him slightly.

Jack froze. He felt his hands heat up more, and water drip down his palm. He gulped several times while his stomach clenched and unclenched with panic.

"I-love-you!" He cried out, pushing the words together.

Chase looked at him sharply, almost as if he were surprised, and quirked an eyebrow in response.

"B-But, I hate you!"

Chase continued to give him a questioning look.

Jack exhaled sharply and turned a heel so he could face the exit.

"I feel better." Jack said with a calm sigh and started walking towards the exit.

He was spun and slammed against the stonewall; fear filled him, freezing him.

Chase grinned as he spotted submission. "Why run from it, when you could easily indulge it?" He asked, leaning closer.

Jack clenched his fists and scowled at the other man. He shoved Chase away from him (obviously startling him) with the assistance of the robotic skeleton that rested on the top layer of his skin, boosting his particularly nonexistent strength.

"Don't touch me, Chase Young." He growled defensively.

Chase brushed some dust off of his armor and looked at him. "Oh really?"

And in a very dramatic movement, the immortal was kissing the man.

Very Apollo-esque in Jack's opinion. But seeing as how he was no longer a boy, he really couldn't compare.

And, even though he was enjoying this no longer a forbidden fruit moment, Jack still would not accept having any sort of relationship with Chase Young.

He attempted to push Chase away once more, but found that impossible. Trapped between the wall and Chase (who, apparently, was using some of his strength to keep Jack in place) there was nowhere he could go.

--

He paced back and forth in his former bedroom; the one he had harbored so dearly when he was a teenager. He felt like a prisoner, but not necessarily in a bad way, though. It was a very odd sensation.

Jack sat back down on his bed and stared at the shoji designed door, wondering if he would ever build up the confidence to walk out of the darkened bedroom.

He had wanted to admit his true feelings and then just run from the source. But, considering that was no longer possible, he had only seen one more option. And option which he wasn't happy considering. In fact, he was dreading this sort of option; fearing that if he actually went through with it, he himself would perish afterwards. He didn't know what would happen to him if he were to do it. He didn't even fully understand his emotions, let alone what actions would trigger such emotions.

He was in a tricky predicament.

But, there was option number two: the one that seemed the most logical and healthy. He could live with Chase, and they could be a couple (God, that sounded so disgusting, referring to both of them as a couple. It sounded too feminine.) He'd probably get stronger in his field of evil, and become more successful by working with the man who was pretty much the founder of evil and evil ways.

Ah, there was his problem. He could see it so clearly now.

Chase Young was evil. Everyone knew this. Would this get in the way of a relationship (even that sounded wrong, though not as back as couple)? True evil people (such as Chase, he believed) did not care for others, just for themselves. If they were to get together, would Chase not take advantage of Jack's weakness (he admitted it, one of his many weaknesses was his emotional state when in 'love') and kill him?

He wasn't really willing to take that chance. He just couldn't.

Jack groaned and rubbed his eyes.

He knew what he had to do.

--

Jack stepped out of his room and towards the dinning room: it was dinnertime. He entered the room and sat down at the circular table. He grabbed a plate and took his share of food.

The two of them ate in silence, for which Jack was glad. He wasn't really in the mood to talk to the man sitting across from him.

He looked at the bowl of soup (very much resembling pea soup, but with a disgusting looking dragon's tail within it) Chase was eating and started to wonder how many bowls of soup that man had. Surely he'd run out of it sometime, would he not? Especially considering how dragons no longer existed...

--

He crept out of his room, hoping the cover of night would keep him from looking too suspicious. At least, as unsuspicious as walking around at night can get. He walked past the dinning room, and, he hoped, entered the kitchen like area.

Thank goodness it was, because he didn't know what he would do if it weren't. Chase's palace was so large, he was positive that he would become lost if he had to search around longer.

So, as he crept through the kitchen (if you could really consider something like this room a kitchen) and searched for the item he was looking for. Chase's special soup, whatever it was called... Loa-Mang-Long or something like that...

He looked over at the long curtain, which, of course, was guided by several jungle cats, and smirked slightly.

The cats watched him with sharp eyes, calculating his moves carefully.

"Hello felines." He greeted in a whisper. He slowly pulled back his sleeve, exposing the metal skeleton, which was pressed down his skin, and pulled off one of the slender rods of metal. He pressed in the small indent which was cut into the metal and watched as the circular tip started to glow a hot looking red.

"Sorry for this." He muttered, obviously lying, and pressed the indent once again. Watching in amusement as the cats jumped up only to be stopped as the beam struck them, destroying them; Jack grinned brighter.

The curtain was burnt, and the cans, which lay behind it, were incinerated.

Jack stepped over towards the still steaming area and pushed back the curtain more (being sure not to actually touch the edge) and discovering the cans of dragon based soup.

He pointed his weapon at the others and pushed the trigger, shooting the cans. The heat, which was emitted, melted the metal and vaporized the liquid inside it.

A sharp chill ran up his spine, and he suddenly knew who was in the room with him as well.

"What are you doing?" Chase growled, rage burning out of him in large tendrils of energy.

Jack winced, his body beginning to tremble subtly. His chest pounded with adrenaline, his lungs growing quickly until they rammed into his ribcage and shrinking back into his center sharply.

"Winning," He answered, amazed by his voice and how confident it sounded. He remembered, from his younger days, how low his self-esteem was; how he stuttered and faltered in speech.

Now he was in a pickle. He had yet to vaporize the rest of the cans, and now Chase was there... If he continued his work, the immortal would get him for good. But, if he were to attack Chase, he was pretty sure that Chase would dodge it then finish him. He couldn't run either; he was too slow.

Oh boy, what was he going to do now?

Chase's eyes narrowed and turned a glowing yellow.

Jack saw with horror as the man changed into his inner form: into an upright standing reptile.

He gasped harshly, a claw gripping around his throat. His old goggles dug into his neck, cutting off his air and making him want to vomit.

Jack made a quick decision, hoping it would work. He pressed the 'trigger' to his 'laser' and aimed it, as best as he could in such a position, at the older man's solar plexus.

Young skidded back, his reptilian armor smoking.

He gasped for air and fell to the ground. The genius gripped his throat and slowly turned towards the shelf. He shot the heat towards the remaining items and watched with a strange sense of sour victory as the last reaming items were destroyed.

He ribs cracked as Chase stomped on his back. Jack ground his teeth together, keeping in an outcry.

"Welch! Look what you've done!" Chase growled, voice so loud it stunned Jack completely.

The cats arrived in the room by this time, lulled by the chaos. They growled, an unwelcome sound to Jack's ears.

Outnumbered, injured, overpowered, and immobilized.

God was he at a disadvantage!

Jack winced, his chest and stomach burning intensely. He knew what this meant, all too well.

He had punctured something; something vital.

"Fuck," Jack whispered, hot copper dripping at the back of his tongue.

"You're plan in backstabbing me has failed, Jack."

He frowned, nails digging into the marble floor. Jack despised admitting it, but he had lost.

"Go on, admit defeat." Chase ground out, crushing Jack under his foot harder.

He grinned, enameled teeth painted red, "Stalemate,"

* * *

**End.**

Author's Note: I see that many of you are confused with the ending. And, one of the recurring questions was "Where is Wuya, Bean, Kimiko, and Clay?" The reason why I didn't explain what happened to them was simply because the reader didn't need to know. They wouldn't have played an important role and I couldn't have Jack ask about four people he didn't even know. He pretty much knew their names (sort of) and that he didn't particularly like them. I wasn't going to have Chase explain to him what these four people were to him, only to have nothing relevant happen after wards! But, for those who are still wondering; I'll tell you! (: Since Kimiko and Clay weren't really worked on in the show, I was under the impression that they weren't too powerful. So, in this line of thought, I was thinking maybe they'd die like normal people! And, since Raimundo and Omi were shown as the more powerful, I thought that maybe they'd be like Guan or something. As for Bean and Wuya, Chase killed them. Pretty simple and what not.

I noticed that some people didn't particularly understand what Jack committed suicide with. And really, I'm ashamed of you! (Not really, just kidding!) But anyway, it was a Shen-Gong-Wu, for one, and it took me a long time to look up a picture reference for it! Drove me insane trying to look for a good picture of it! Anyway, know that I've complained a bit, I might as well tell you!  
He used the Kazusu Atom and the reason why Reincarnation!Jack couldn't hear Older!Jack was because Older!Jack was speaking Old English and Jack only understood New English. I'm not going to get into a whole discussion about the whole New English thing, because I just made that up. Really, after hundreds of years, the language is bound to change!

For those who were looking for some good Chack, I'm sorry that I wasn't particularly able to write it. The way I see their relationship is one that is very close to the one they have in the show. Except, Chase might be a bit nicer towards Jack. I cannot see a sexual relationship between them because I wouldn't think Chase would be into that (and Jack might freak out a bit.) And having them kiss is a bit awkward. Maybe this is just me and my slight discomfort with age different relationships or something, I don't know.

And, finally, as for why I killed them both off; well, I wanted to make the point across that even his reincarnated self still held his old self's inability to trust. Reincarnation!Jack trusted Chase the most, but still held that unknown feeling of mistrust towards him until it drove him insane with paranoia. He knew and understood that Chase Young was the most evil person on the face of the planet and he didn't know if he could trust the man's word or not. He wasn't sure if Chase was tricking him or not, and took action before he could. (Chase wasn't really tricking him, but Jack thought so.) And, having his immortality risked, Chase retaliated. Hence why he attacked Jack with such brutality.

I hoped that cleared up some things! Thank you for reading!  
-heartheart-


End file.
